A/N- Thank you to my reviewers!!!!!! You rock my socks.

SteerpikeSister- glad you liked it!!!! I hate phanfics that mindlessly bash Raoul. He really isn't all that bad.

drellnco- Thanks. Sorry about that, I should have been more specific. I just read all three versions over, and I muddled them together quite a bit with very little explanation. So, yep, Christine slept with Erik, but in my version of events Raoul didn't follow her. I'm basically following Kay's version of events (basically, mind you), but using Leroux's characterizations of Christine and Raoul. Raoul is upset, but he doesn't show it because he doesn't want to worry Christine. I see your point there, though. However, Raoul has pretty much accepted the fact that they could be Erik's kids already…sort of like he does with his kid in the end of the Kay book (yes, I remember what I said about Leroux, but I'm fickle). Oh, yeah, and Erik is not dead yet, obviously, but he's kind of waiting to die. Sucks for him, now he can't. As for the friendliness between them…I see your point there as well…but explaining why I chose to do it that way: -it wouldn't do for the plot at all to have Erik kill Raoul () lol. –This chapter will give you more insight into Erik's odd behavior. This is an exceptional situation, so I would imagine he would behave oddly. THANKS FOR THE ADVICE!!!!!!! I'll be very careful to make Erik explain himself in this chappie. People who really read like you are hard to come by, so thanks again.

Opera Ghost 1881- Thanks!!! See above about Erik and Raoul.

ChildcalledNothing- Thanks!!!

Liallynne (Julia)- No!!! Anything but that!!! ANYTHING!!!! (P.S. –he's still in France anyway)

Anyone else- My title sucks muffins, so if you have a better idea for the title of this story, PLEASE e-mail me, and if I like it, I'll use it.

Erm…I think that's it. So anyway…

ERIK

I watched him go, grudgingly. He should have been thankful my hands were full. I may not have been responsible for what they might have done otherwise.

Yet, he seemed to have grown up since our last encounter. I was surprised that he would even dare to come down here, much less land in my torture chamber and demand my immediate audience. Much less make the decision he had made.

Since he had left with Christine, I had felt oddly deflated. Not devoid of emotion or pity as when I heard that conversation on the rooftop, which was still burned into my memory, just devoid of the will to do…anything. Nadir took me for dying, and came to take care of me nearly every day. I decided not to correct him. Deceiving him was much easier than attempting to explain how I felt to him.

And then, she had come back. I had not expected her to; I had not expected her lover to allow it. I would not have. So I was obviously shocked when Nadir led her into my room, explaining to her that I was dying. I hated to mislead Christine, but what other choice did I have? She was overcome with grief and remorse when she saw me in such a state. And she did what no other woman would ever have done with me. And I, willing to go to any lengths to have just a bit of that beautiful soul, kept up my charade of the poor, dying victim, cursing my inability to resist my own desire all the while, yet never contemplating the consequences of such an action.

And here was the consequence, writhing and screaming in my arms.

But now I was getting ahead of myself. I sat down, still feeling as though I had just been dealt a great physical blow, and attempted to calm the child and collect the rest of my thoughts.

I had let Christine go, of course. I knew it was the best thing I could do for her. What she had done with me had not been out of love, but out of guilt, and out of pity, and I had learned long ago the difference between those emotions. She would only truly be happy with her Vicomte. I wouldn't have been able to live with myself if I had forced her to stay. If I had to look upon her every day, staying dutifully by my side, out of pity. No, I would die more honourably than that, and I would not deny the woman I loved her happiness.

I told her that she had made the right decision, that all I would want for her was for her to live out the rest of her days in complete and utter happiness, and not to grieve for me, but not to forget me. "I will always be your angel," I had said, "But I could never be your man." And as hard as it was for me, I sent her on her way, feeling oddly fulfilled.

The next morning I ate for the first time in days.

Nadir wondered at this so-called "miraculous recovery", but I could not agree. I had recovered nothing. I was just dutifully carrying on for the sake of Christine's peace of mind. I did not play. I did not build. I didn't do anything really, save for live: perform the bodily functions of eating, sleeping, and using the privy, and endure Nadir's constant interviews, most of them starting with, "I don't know Erik, you just don't seem quite right to me lately…"

Damned right I didn't! I didn't seem "quite right" to myself! I felt deadened and hollow, like a rotting corpse that had forgotten to die. And then, I had heard his voice. The voice of my greatest rival, right inside my home. And I didn't just feel the customary hatred I had expected. I felt as though the blood that had been sitting idle in my veins had begun to flow again at last. I felt alive, for the first time in a long while. And perhaps that is one of the reasons I didn't flip the switch and do away with him right then. Because he gave me something to care about, for the first time since Christine left. Even if it was hatred, it was better than emptiness.

He had surprised me with his newfound courage. I wasn't quite sure to how react. He was no longer Christine's sniveling devotee, but a real man now, who had enough audacity to face his greatest rival, the darkest shadow in a life that had been bathed with sunshine, in my own territory. My instincts warned me that what he had to say was important, and I would regret it if I killed him. And I couldn't perform such an injustice toward by beloved Christine. Oh, how great it had been to think again! To feel like myself!

Anyway, he had shown his courage. I decided to allow him the privilege of talking to me. I was also testing myself. Testing myself to see if I could hold my temper. It was a reckless thing to do, but I did it, purely in the blind joy of being able to function properly again.

I spoke him in the cold, formal manner that I had grown accustomed to using with all but a select few, glad to be in control again, not shying away from questions, but asking them!

And then he had given me the baby. Whatever I had expected, it hadn't been that. Why would he give me this child? How did he even know it was mine? A million questions ran through my mind, as I fought to keep myself composed. What could this possibly be?

And then, I lifted the blanket, and stared at the answer. My heart had risen at the prospect of having something, anything that could remind me of my Christine. It promptly sank, until I feared it would rupture my stomach, when I saw that face. The child would not remind me of Christine. She would only remind me of myself.

I stared at her twisted, malformed features in horror for a second. Is this how my mother had felt when she had first looked upon me? I understood now.

And as soon as those thoughts came into my head, I was ashamed of them. I had done this pitiful girl the great injustice of giving her life, and now it was more than my duty to protect her. How could I have just gone and gotten Christine pregnant, never thinking that I could bring another monster like me into the world? I had really done it this time. If there had been any hope for my sad soul before, there was certainly none now. I would burn in hell for this crime of crimes. For forcing life upon this poor child. She had only horror and misfortune before her. I knew that better than anyone.

Killing her would be doing her a great favour, yet I could not bring myself to do it. I felt a burning empathy toward her, and a sudden determination to help her. To mend her broken wings, even though I knew she could never fly. And the Vicomte…he loved her. She was not his child, and she was only a day old, but he had spent that entire day with her, and she had obviously grown on him. Sometimes, I just could not understand other people. He had met me with revulsion, yet he loved the child that bore my likeness? It made no sense. And yet, I did not doubt his words. I would protect her for him, just as he would protect Christine for me. It seemed a fair contract, and removed any question of a debt between us. We were square.

Once the initial shock began to wear off, though, my hatred came back to me. I made a hasty bargain with him, allowing him to visit the child once a year, and had ushered him out of my house before I could do something…regrettable. And here I was, alone with the child that I would have to raise. The little mirror from which I could not escape. I would have to deal with the repulsiveness of my own face every day.

Unless…no. I could not bring myself to make her wear a mask. Not yet, anyway. When I was a child, hadn't I hated it? Hadn't I hated the way it wore at my skin and stifled me? Yet I had learned to love the protection of the mask- the magic mask that my mother had told me would keep the monster in the mirror away.

I knew she would inevitably need the same protection, but I couldn't trust myself to decide when. For the first time in years, I needed help. I could not do this on my own. I had never been ashamed to ask for help before, but suddenly, I resisted the urge with all my being. Who would know better what the child needed than I? But then, look at what I had become, and what she would inevitably become as well, if she had no other influence. Who would prevent her from making the same mistakes that I made?

As if in answer to my question, I heard a knock on the door. Nadir, undoubtedly, on his routine morning visit. How many hours had past since Chagny had left? I didn't know. I had lost track of time in my state of dutiful continuation, and I felt a sudden overwhelming desire to know what time it was, what day it was. How many months had gone by since I had played the organ? How many months had I been such a pitiful, detestable sack of bones? Part of me did not want to know. I would simply have to pick up where I left off before love had muddled my senses.

He knocked again, harder and more anxiously this time. I sighed, and then snarled, "Patience, Daroga! I'm coming, I'm coming!" I opened the door for him, leaving the baby on the couch, and he came in, looking relieved enough that I was still alive to throw his arms around me. Of course, he knew me too well to think that such a gesture did not risk a good deal of his physical well-being, and so he refrained.

"Erik," he said, "You scared me! I thought you…weren't coming."

I sighed. I had put this confession off long enough. "Nadir, there's nothing wrong with my health. I was wasting my time brooding over something I could never have. I'm fine now."

He frowned, "And what brought about this sudden change of heart?" All of his old suspicion was back again, and I managed to lift my self from my shame long enough to be amused.

"Always suspecting something, you are. Always the Daroga."

"Erik, don't play games with me, what is it? Because I know it's something!"

The baby decided that this would be the opportune moment to realize I had put her down, and began to cry. I swear she knew exactly what was going on, the little demon. I sighed and went to her, while Nadir stood back, gaping. "A child?! Erik, what are you doing?"

"What? I don't even have the right to have a child anymore?" I said, feigning offence, purposely bating him.

"Do you expect me to believe a stork dropped her on your doorstep?"

"Oh no," I said, hiding behind my sarcasm once again, "Not a stork. A viscount."

"Erik!" Nadir looked suddenly alarmed.

"Oh, calm down! It was fully his decision. I didn't harm the man! I didn't even threaten him!"

"But…why?" said Nadir, with all the puzzlement that I had felt when I had first heard of the Vicomte's decision.

"Come here," I said, motioning for him to look at her face. He did, and I read comprehension dawning in all his features. He reacted as I had hoped he would.

"Erik, you can't do this alone. I'm going to help you."

I could hardly keep myself from smiling, as I insisted, "Don't be stupid! Who would know better than I would how to raise a deformed child?"

"That is exactly what I'm afraid of," he said, pointedly, "You have to raise a child, not a deformed child. You have to treat her as you would any other girl, and that I don't expect you to be able to do."

This remark surprised me, and I knew now more than I had before how badly I was in need of his help. "Very well, Daroga, but if she ever comes to hurt, you'll be the first I blame."

He sighed. "She's Daae's child, I presume."

"Yes," I answered softly. He let that matter rest.

"What did the Vicomte tell her?"

"He told her that the girl was dead," I replied. "There was another…a twin. A perfect little angel, for the perfect little parents." I smiled at the child with rough affection. "We demons have to stick together."

Nadir shook his head incredulously. "Erik, are you sure that you can do this?"

"I've always been able to do anything I set my sights on," I said. "Hopefully, she won't prove me wrong."

"She's already proving you wrong. You've got my help, but you're going to need a woman's help as well. No matter how brilliant you may be, you're still a man."

I knew exactly who to go to for that. Mademoiselle Perrault, though I've never been sure if she liked me, had always been kind to me, and she had always seemed to know what to do with me, even when my mother did not. I knew I could count on her, if she was still alive and unmarried. And if nothing else, she would surely come out of fear of me. "I know someone. I'll write her a letter sending for her as soon as you leave. She was a friend of my mother's, and I always respected her when I was a child."

Nadir looked uncertain. "Will she come?" he wondered.

"If she is still alive and unmarried, I think she will come," I responded.

"I hope so, for both our sakes," said Nadir, attempting to make me smile. It worked. "So," he said, gesturing at the baby, "Does she have a name?"

I thought carefully for a few minutes before replying, "Etoile. Etoile Reza."